


Grant My Last Request (just let me hold you)

by Keikosbadboy (Fanhag102)



Category: Naruto
Genre: Emotional Sex, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-08
Updated: 2019-04-08
Packaged: 2020-01-06 14:58:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,913
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18390722
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanhag102/pseuds/Keikosbadboy
Summary: It's the night before Itachi goes to let Sasuke kill him and Kisame knows it will be the last time he'll hold Itachi, so he needs to make it count.





	Grant My Last Request (just let me hold you)

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Paulo Nutini song "Last Request" 
> 
> I've been out of fanfic for a while, and this is hopefully a sort of "homecoming" fic for me, so if you stumble across this fic, I hope you like it...

Maybe he realized it when Itachi kissed him with force enough to stop a hurricane; or maybe it was when Itachi stripped him, avoiding his eyes as he did; or maybe it was when his teeth skimmed Itachi’s collar-bone and he shuddered beneath Kisame’s fingers; maybe it was when Itachi guided Kisame’s hands with his, leading one into long raven hair and curling delicate fingers over strong ones, twisting into the strands of hair and holding tight, the other hand leading Kisame’s slowly down a soft, bare back, ending at the dip of his fragile waist. Maybe that was when he really and truly realized what Itachi was trying to tell him. 

This was the last time Kisame would kiss him. This was the last time Kisame would fuck him. It was the last time Kisame would bury his face into the crook of his neck, inhaling his clean, smoky scent, and feel his moans rattle from his throat to his chest as Kisame buried himself inside him. 

This was the last time, and Kisame had to try and make it count. 

He knew how Itachi liked it; how rough he needed to move, how hard he needed to pull, how to call his name and mark his skin. He wanted to give Itachi all of those things, but he wanted to do more, too. This was the last time, after all. 

Kisame should have known it was coming—Itachi was worse every day, coughing up blood and staring at Kisame with hazy eyes, speaking softly and gently and allowing Kisame a little bit more every time they slept together. 

Back in the beginning Itachi made it very clear the way he wanted things done. He didn’t want any sweet whispers and if Kisame tried so much as to kiss the nape of his neck he’d find himself filled with a sharp pain that seemed to originate from nowhere. But that was fine, because back then Kisame didn’t really want it that way either. They were only using each other’s bodies, after all. The attraction between them was mutual and it only made sense, considering how closely they had to work and coordinate together. They were at least better than Kakuzu and Hidan, who fought and fucked without setting any boundaries or considering why they did it. 

Kisame thought himself awfully lucky in the beginning. Itachi was an impeccable specimen, no one could deny. And Kisame had always liked a rough, violent fuck every now and again. Back then, he never would have thought a time would come when it hurt him to hurt the smaller man when he held him, despite Itachi begging for it with every ounce of his being. 

Kisame knew why Itachi liked it that way. It was one of those things he kept to himself and would probably keep until the day he died. It made him feel better about treating such a fragile-looking creature as Itachi so cruelly. If he made Itachi bleed, the only thing that kept his stomach from turning was the look of bliss on Itachi’s face. When Itachi screamed, he never bothered to figure out whether it was from pain or pleasure. If Itachi could no longer move when they were through, he knew that he had done well. 

Then, as time passed, things slowly began to change. 

Itachi still wanted to be held rough, to be bruised and battered and left exhausted from sex—

(“ _I want to feel it_ ,” he always said.)

—but if Kisame slipped up now and again by stroking skin instead of scraping it, leaving kisses instead of bite marks, murmuring Itachi’s name when he meant to spit it, well, sometimes Itachi looked the other way. 

And then Itachi grew sickly, and Kisame couldn’t bear it any longer. 

_“I won’t hurt you anymore,”_ he’d said, sure in his decision, even if it meant never touching Itachi again. _“Not the way you want me to.”_

He remembered Itachi staring at him for a very long time with that unreadable expression on his face, and then he nodded without a word and climbed into Kisame’s lap, wrapping his arms around Kisame’s neck and pressing his lips to his ear to murmur huskily, 

_“Then hold me like you want to.”_

And Kisame did, with every pretense gone. His allegiance to Itachi was unshakable then. It didn’t matter how the Uchiha felt about him, he just wanted to convey to Itachi how he felt, and he did so by holding Itachi so gently and with so much care, that even someone as ruined as Itachi Uchiha felt content when they were through. 

And now it was the final time they would be together. It was in the tingling at the tips of Kisame’s fingers and the desperate breathes out of Itachi’s lips. It was clear that there would be no other time to hear Itachi moan his name because when the sound hit Kisame’s ears it shattered his eardrums. It was in the way they went slow, savoring every moment like they hoped it would never end. 

Itachi didn’t need to speak the truth out loud because Kisame could tell it would be the last time when he started to ask Itachi if he had always intended to cause Kisame this much pain and Itachi cut him off, pressing his fingers gently to Kisame’s parted lips and softly quieting his question.

“Shhhhhh,” he said, and slowly traced the dry bumps of Kisame’s lips with the tips of his fingers, then led them down to his chin and up to his ears, cupping Kisame’s face in his hand before kissing the pain out of him. 

But Kisame couldn’t let it go, not when Itachi was so close but felt so far away. 

“You’re cruel,” Kisame told him. He used every ounce of strength in him to pull away, but even then, he didn’t get far. Itachi’s lithe fingers twirled aimlessly at the hair on the back of his neck. 

“Selfish,” Kisame continued, voice gruff with anger and arousal. Itachi never touched him like this. Not like this. 

“You’ve drawn me in, seduced me into your trap, let me fall in so deep—“ he cut himself off. Itachi had turned away from him, expression blank. 

Kisame felt anger bubbling in his chest. Itachi knew what he was doing all along, and he hadn’t cared about Kisame’s feelings, not ever. He was just a body, just a tool for Itachi to use and abandon when necessary. 

“You used me!” Kisame growled, his hands going tight on Itachi’s pale shoulders, fingers digging in, leaving marks. 

“You don’t care about anyone but yourself! Everything we’ve been through, everything I’ve done for you, and you—“

“Please,” Itachi’s voice was barely above a whisper. He was still looking away, out of the dirty window at the rain pouring down outside their room. 

Kisame swallowed, all the anger seeping out of him like water flowing down the drain. 

“ _Please, Kisame,”_ he said again, desperate. Something caught in his throat. Not a sob, no tears, barely a hint of _something_ … but something. 

He turned back to Kisame wearing a sad smile, looking younger than Kisame had ever seen him. He held Kisame’s face in his hands again. 

“Don’t hate me,” he sighed. “I don’t know what I would do if you hated me.” 

Just as Kisame felt his heart shattering, he made himself put it back together again. For Itachi. Because Itachi needed him to. 

“Just hold me,” Itachi asked him. “One last time.” 

Kisame knelt forward to take Itachi’s lips in his. He pulled Itachi close and held him. 

Because there was nothing else. There was no asking Itachi to choose him. No begging Itachi to change his mind, no confessing his undying love and Itachi confessing his and they walk off into the sunset. 

There was only this. 

There was only Itachi in his arms and against his skin. The smell of Itachi in his nose and the taste of him on his tongue. The sound of his cries echoing in Kisame’s ears.

( _How long would they echo_ , he wondered.)

Well, if this was all Kisame would have, then he would take it all. Every last second, to the very end. 

He kissed Itachi until he squirmed, letting his fingers trace soft lines over both of Itachi’s pert nipples. He moved down Itachi’s torso slowly, pausing frequently to stop and tease, and to savor how Itachi reacted. 

_(No one would ever react to him like this again)_

He kept moving down, towards the hard heat of Itachi’s cock, loving the way Itachi’s chest rose and fell each time he almost touched it, his tongue moving circles around it, almost there but not quite. 

When he finally took Itachi in his mouth, the younger man sighed his name like no other time before. Kisame’s heart shattered with every sound Itachi made. He tried to hold onto them, like these memories were butterflies that would be gone in a blink. 

He worked Itachi slowly, trying to remember his taste and the texture of his skin, smoother than silk. He curled his tongue on the underside of Itachi’s shaft and Itachi bucked into his mouth with a half-surprised gasp. Kisame went faster and faster until Itachi was gasping his name without reservation, and his slender fingers pulled at Kisame’s hair as he came with a shudder. 

Kisame stayed with him as he rode out his orgasm, trying to hold on to the sound of the expletives that came pouring from Itachi’s mouth. And he didn’t pause when Itachi collapsed back onto the mattress, didn’t give the man a second to breathe before he was flipping Itachi smoothly onto his stomach. 

Itachi didn’t complain, he merely mewled with pleasure as Kisame lifted his hips up and spread his cheeks. 

Kisame only paused then to make sure he would remember this image, of Itachi, shaking with post-orgasm bliss, laid out and ready for Kisame to take him. His black hair fanned around his pale skin, already glowing with a light sheen of sweat. The shadows of the rain on the window fell across the sheets and the dip of Itachi’s back, between his shoulder blades. 

Kisame couldn’t help it. He bent to kiss the ridges of Itachi’s spine and when he pulled back Itachi half turned his face to stare at Kisame with those eyes, dark as night. His face was flushed, mouth open and panting. 

Kisame had to remember this image too. 

He didn’t have enough _time_. 

Carefully spreading Itachi’s ass further, he let his tongue dip just so against the tight hole. Itachi lifted his hips to meet him, pressing his tongue in further. 

He toyed with Itachi for several minutes, giving him just enough and then pulling away. When it was slick enough with spit, Kisame pressed a finger into him, slowly, fighting against the tight muscle. 

Itachi let out another one of those soft sounds that would surely haunt Kisame’s dreams. He moved his hips, too soon, fucking himself on Kisame’s finger. 

“I want you,” he said, breathy and desperate, already hard again. 

“ _Fuck_ ,” Kisame’s voice broke, and his own erection, that he’d been steadfastly ignoring, gave a painful throb. 

He pulled out his finger (another gasped cry that Kisame would never hear again), using his spit to slick his cock. He knew that small amount of preparation wasn’t enough and he was sure to hurt Itachi a little when he entered, but he also knew Itachi didn’t care. Itachi wanted him, and Itachi never waited to get what he wanted. 

The younger man arched his back, ass high in the air, and Kisame’s hands were almost shaking with desire as he lined his cock up to Itachi’s hole. Itachi stilled, holding his breath, and Kisame pushed in, slow. So slow. 

“ _Ohh,”_ Itachi moaned as Kisame fucked into him. And then Itachi rocked back and forth, small motions that squeezed Kisame just right. Kisame had to hold on to Itachi’s hips to still him when he was fully sheathed inside Itachi’s ass. 

The feeling of being inside Itachi would be the easiest to remember, because there was nothing else in the world like it. Kisame could have just stayed like that, holding on to Itachi’s hips, never letting him go. 

“Fuck me, Kisame,” Itachi crooned, hands fisted into the sheets. 

“You—“ Kisame began, but couldn’t remember why when he pulled out and pushed back in again. The tight heat of Itachi around him was like a shockwave. He dug his fingers deeper into the smooth skin of Itachi’s hips and he fucked him slow and gentle, the way he always wanted to. 

Kisame never thought he would want to do anything slow and gentle, but Itachi brought something sweet out in him, something he thought he’d killed off years ago. Itachi was precious, like porcelain, and Kisame just wanted to protect him. Every thrust of his hips was so Itachi felt good, so he would make those sounds, and the muscles in his shoulders would relax. Kisame fucked him good and hard and just right so that maybe, just for a moment, the shadows of his past could fade and disappear, and the bloody splotches of his life could fall away to nothing but the pleasure Kisame gave him.

Kisame bent over Itachi, changing his angle, and Itachi met him halfway, spreading his legs wider and arching more into Kisame’s cock. At some point Kisame started chanting Itachi’s name with every thrust, and he couldn’t bring himself to stop. 

He fucked Itachi hard, desperate, trying not to think that this was the last time he ever would. He tried not to think about all the time wasted, when he and Itachi first became partners and didn’t trust one another. He thought about all the times Itachi made Kisame hurt him, and how he didn’t care if Itachi had begged him for it; if he could go back and change every bite into a kiss he would. He spent so long pretending that he felt nothing for Itachi. He’d wasted so much time. Now all he wanted was for Itachi to know. Itachi had to know how Kisame felt about him. 

He stopped thrusting abruptly, pulling all the way out. Itachi mewled and started to fall onto the sheets but Kisame caught him. 

He turned Itachi around and put the younger man on his lap, carefully lining up his cock to thrust back inside Itachi, holding him upright and pressing his face into the side of Itachi’s throat. 

Itachi gasped with every thrust as Kisame fucked him, desperate for Itachi to know how he felt, to tell him through actions. He spoke Itachi’s name against his throat like a prayer. 

Kisame knew he was close but he didn’t want to come, didn’t want it to be over. If he could just keep fucking then he could keep Itachi forever. Maybe he could fuck them both to death, and then they never had to be apart. 

“ _Kisame_ ,” Itachi cried. “ _I’m goin—I’m going to_ —“ 

Kisame didn’t let himself feel tired. He fucked Itachi harder and harder and faster and faster, just the way Itachi liked, until Itachi was coming again, squirting between their bodies accompanied by desperate, gasped words. 

Kisame felt Itachi squeeze tight around his cock and he groaned low as Itachi’s fingers scraped sharp into his back. At least he’d have those marks to remember him by. 

It was Itachi breathlessly crying his name that finally made Kisame come, the kind of orgasm that felt like a punch in the gut and left you shaking. He gripped Itachi tight, long after he had finished coming, until he finally lay them down side by side in the messed sheets. And then Kisame held him, wondering how he could be so lucky and so cursed all at once.

“I could never hate you,” Kisame finally said into the silence, answering Itachi’s earlier fear. 

Where Itachi’s head rested on Kisame’s chest he could feel the corners of his lips pull up in a rare smile. 

“Thank you, Kisame,” he replied, voice like a feather drifting on the wind. 

Kisame tried not to think about how it would happen, or to wonder why Itachi had waited all this time. If he pretended that he still didn’t know what tomorrow could bring, then he could hold on to this a little longer.

He should have known it would turn out this way from the beginning. Itachi and his quiet plans, his skillful manipulation of everyone and everything for his own needs. Kisame was just another pawn for Itachi to use in his games, but it was true; Kisame couldn’t hate him. Just like he couldn’t have stopped himself from falling in love with Itachi. These things were always going to happen, and Kisame hated sitting around and overthinking every little aspect of life that he couldn't have changed if he'd wanted to. 

Itachi would die tomorrow. He would be gone, and Kisame was powerless to stop it. All he could do was remember the feeling of Itachi’s fingers lightly tracing the edge of his jaw, their legs sticky and tangled together, the sound of the rain beating on the roof and the steady inhale, exhale of Itachi’s breathing. 

He could savor _this_ moment, and all the moments that came before. 

Tomorrow Itachi would leave him, but tomorrow felt far away.

And the night was still young. 


End file.
